


dry your tears

by natodiangelo



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Comfort, Crying, Gen, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, this is some wholesome shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-28
Updated: 2018-03-28
Packaged: 2019-04-14 07:26:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14131089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/natodiangelo/pseuds/natodiangelo
Summary: “Noctis,” He murmurs into the quiet air around them. “You will bring such light to this world.” But Noctis is already asleep, and Regis lays him down and returns to bed.(Four times Noctis is comforted by those who love him.)





	dry your tears

**Author's Note:**

  * For [powderdonut](https://archiveofourown.org/users/powderdonut/gifts).



> for my boy Elias............ <3

Noctis is a quiet child.

He can’t help but fidget, but he stays quiet during meetings. While tailors take his measurements for new royal outfits he stays silent. Dinners with his retainers are just the same.

So Ignis isn’t surprised to find him sitting in his room quietly. It’s time for his lunch, and as much as he’s sure Noctis would love to stay away from the vegetables prepared for him, Ignis will not relent. He had assumed his absence was yet another form of his resistance to proper nutrition.

He was wrong

Because, as he carefully enters Noctis’ room, he finds the prince curled up on his bed. And he’s crying.

Ignis is thirteen. Not old, not like the shield’s son Gladio, who has already turned fifteen. Definitely not like the tutors who teach him, who he knows are at least as old as his uncle. But. He’s older than Noctis. And he’s been given this responsibility to help the prince grow and to help him where he can.

So he crosses the room and settles himself on the edge of the bed. Noctis’ bloodshot, wet eyes glance up at him.

“Your highness,” Ignis says, as he’s been told. “Has something happened?”

Noctis shakes his head hesitantly.

“What’s wrong?”

He shrugs. Ignis waits a moment to see if he’ll elaborate, but that moment comes and goes. Ignis reaches out a hand.

“You can confide in me,” Ignis says, laying one hand over Noctis’. “I’m here for you.”

A moment later he has a lap full of prince.

Noctis hides his face in Ignis’ shirt and holds tight. Ignis rubs his back. Noctis feels small against him – nothing like the great king he must one day become. Now, in his room with tears soaking Ignis’ shirt, he is twelve and incredibly burdened.

So Ignis holds him.

 

* * *

 

Gladio swings his sword with as much force as he can muster without knocking himself over. Noctis dodges easily, only the shimmer of blue left behind to ever indicate he was there at all. Gladio whips around, knowing Noctis’ strategy, and raising his sword in time to block an attack that would have otherwise hit him in the back of the neck. He pushes out, knocking Noctis back.

“That all you got?” He taunts. Noctis wipes sweat from his face and lunges back in.

Gladio’s seventeen now, with years and years of practice under his belt. He feels powerful, holding his great sword, moving and lifting and running around with Noctis at his heels. Feels like nothing could stop him.

He reminds himself that this isn’t just for fun – it’s his duty, his life’s purpose. To be strong. To protect this shitty brat in front of him.

He ducks to avoid a swing from Noctis, jumps back and pulls his own sword out in front of him. Then, easier than it should have been, he knocks Noctis’ weapon out of his hand and propels him to the floor.

“Stay on guard, princess.” Gladio tells him. Noctis stays silent.

Gladio takes a long drink from his water bottle as they rest. He wipes sweat from his face and neck and waits as long as he thinks Noctis needs to refresh himself before he hefts his sword up again.

“Ready for round two?” He asks. But Noctis is still sitting on the floor where he fell, back to Gladio, not moving, not responding. He wonders if that fall took more out of him that it seemed – hopes it’s nothing broken, just bruised. “Shit, Noct, are you okay?” He walks up behind him.

And stops.

Because Noctis is crying.

He’s crying soft tears, eyes distant and lips held tight between his teeth. Pale trails run down his cheeks.

Gladio thinks, for a moment, about how young Noctis is. Barely fourteen. His short shoulders are hunched up protectively, and he looks so _small._

It reminds him of Iris, the feeling that wells up in him. Wanting to help. It breaks his heart.

So he sits himself down and pulls Noctis into his side.

“What’s going on?” He asks. Noctis is uncomfortably warm against his still sweaty side. He pulls him closer.

“I’m-“ Noctis sniffles. “I’m fine.”

“Bull.”

Noctis scowls as best he can with eyes red and tears still falling down his face. “I’m fine.”

“Obviously, you’re not.”

“Like you’d understand.”

“I get upset, too, y’know.” He says. “It’s normal.”

Noctis stays silent, but after a moment, he leans in.

 

* * *

 

Noctis isn’t at school.

> prom: you okay dude??????
> 
> prom: if you died im gonna b so sad
> 
> noct: I’m fine

Noctis isn’t fine.

Noctis _never_ says he’s “fine”. He’ll make a joke that Prompto isn’t his mom. Compare him to Ignis.

If he says he’s fine, he’s decidedly _not._

So Prompto goes over after school.

(The security in the lobby have stopped interrogating him every time. Now, he can pass through with a nod and a wave.)

> prom: im outside open up

Noctis opens the door.

He doesn’t look good. Deep bags under red eyes, hair laying unstyled over his face. He’s in loose pajamas. He doesn’t even look surprised to see him.

“Can I come in?” Prompto asks. Noctis steps aside.

The apartment is a mess. It always is, but today is especially bad. Take out boxes and dirty dishes and loose papers everywhere. But Prompto doesn’t focus on that – he watches Noctis shuffle back to his room and Prompto follows.

“Are you okay, buddy?” Prompto asks as Noctis falls lifelessly onto the bed. His reply surprises him even more.

“No.”

“What’s wrong?” He hovers anxiously beside the bed. “Are you sick?”

“No,” Noctis repeats. Then, he sighs. “Will you- would you just… lay with me?”

Prompto blinks. Noctis pats the bed beside him.

“Just… lay with you?”

“Yeah.”

Prompto kicks off his shoes and crawls in next to him.

It’s awkward at first – they both lay there, stiff and unmoving. Prompto thinks about trying to comment on how soft the sheets are when Noctis huffs out a sigh and throws his arm over Prompto’s waist.

“Noct?”

“If you’re uncomfortable, you can leave,” Noctis says. “But I – I need this.”

Hesitantly, Prompto wraps his arms around Noctis. And they lay.

 

* * *

 

Over the baby monitor, Noctis cries.

“I’ll get him.” Regis says. Aulea sighs her thanks.

He crosses the hallway separating the nursery from their bedroom and turns on the lamp next to the crib. Noctis wails, tears falling fat and heavy from his closed eyes. The sound tears at Regis’ heart like no other – tears down walls he hadn’t known he’d had, before having Noctis. Rips down his carefully cultivated resistance to the pain of others, which he learned to be able to survive as king.

Noctis has taught him so much about vulnerability. His son, not even a year old and already with so much to share with the world.

He leans down and carefully picks Noctis up. He cradles his head against his shoulder and supports him with his other hand. He shushes him, smoothing down the few strands of hair he’s grown and gently rocking back and forth.

Regis loves his son more than the world itself. Regis – Regis, the father, not Regis, the King, or Regis, the warrior – would do anything for his son. The light of his life.

Noctis’ cries slowly taper and fall away, until he hiccups his last sob and falls silent. He can feel one small grasp aimlessly at his shirt, his hair. The steady feeling of his son’s chest rising and falling puts him at ease.

“Noctis,” He murmurs into the quiet air around them. “You will bring such light to this world.”

But Noctis is already asleep, and Regis lays him down and returns to bed.


End file.
